


With Roses

by Michelle



Series: With-Verse [2]
Category: The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Human/Vampire Relationship, M/M, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-27
Updated: 2010-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-13 09:08:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29026242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michelle/pseuds/Michelle
Summary: An amateur’s guide on how to get a date with a vampire.
Relationships: Orlando Bloom/Viggo Mortensen
Series: With-Verse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2129283
Kudos: 1





	With Roses

**Author's Note:**

> Title: With Roses  
> Author: Michelle  
> Email: michelle [at] waking-vision.com  
> Beta: Nancy  
> Summary: An amateur’s guide on how to get a date with a vampire.  
> Series: With-Verse. This is the sequel to “With Teeth”.  
> Pairing: V/O  
> Genre: slash  
> Warnings: AU, vamp!fic  
> Rating: NC17  
> Disclaimer: Still not mine. This is just fiction.  
> Author's Note: This is for everyone who demanded a sequel to “With Teeth”. Apparently, Viggo and Orlando can not simply have a one-night-stand. There has to be more and here it is! Again, since I’m a huge fan of the vampire genre, this story draws inspiration from many sources. You will see a little Charlaine Harris in there (especially where the term fangbanger is concerned) as well as some Laurell K. Hamilton and a dash of Anne Rice. The books Orlando gets from the library all exist and yes, that includes the “Complete Idiot’s Guide to Vampires”.

It was the smell of coffee and the clanging of dishes that woke Orlando. He had been sleeping like a log, dreamless and apparently without turning once during the night, and his body was reluctant to return to the world of the living. He opened his eyes experimentally and closed them again. Bright sunlight was streaming in through the window, evidence enough that the day was well underway.

Hence, the noise from the kitchen, Orlando surmised. He turned onto his side with a grunt, buried his nose in the sheets and closed his eyes again. He was determined to go back to sleep, but ten minutes later he had to admit defeat. The noise from the kitchen continued. Sarah seemed resolved to bang pots together until he got up. He loved her dearly, but it was during moments like this when he wished he had the money to afford his own flat instead of having to share.

If he ever made it big and earned bucketloads of money, he would soundproof his bedroom (the one in the Mediterranean villa he would own then). As it were, he had no other choice at the moment than to relent and get up. He quickly glanced at his alarm-clock - 11 am. Well, Sarah had a point, it might really be time to get up already.

They had been living together for almost a year now, which meant each knew the other’s quirks by heart. For instance: Sarah knew full well that she wouldn’t get a coherent response from him before he had showered and had inhaled the smell of his first coffee. So she waited him out and did not even try to engage him in conversation when he crossed the kitchen on his way to the bathroom. When he came back, hair still wet from the shower and wearing ratty jeans, an old t-shirt and a bleary-eyed expression, she shoved a mug of coffee into his waiting hands. She sat across from him on the kitchen table and tapped her fingernails against her own mug of tea, looking at him expectantly. Orlando pretended not to notice her interest and sipped his coffee in silent bliss. They sat like this for all but two minutes before Sarah lost her nerve and gave a reproachful huff.

“Oh, come on, Orlando! You’re cruel,” she complained. “I know you didn’t want to talk last night, but you looked a little out of it anyway, so I won’t hold it against you. But I want to know everything. _Now!_ ” She stressed the last word, which made it sound like a threat. And Orlando just knew he wouldn’t get any of Sarah’s wonderful pancakes in the forseeable future if he didn’t share at least _some_ of last night’s events with her.

He pondered how much he should tell her, but the fact remained that the vampire club had been her idea to begin with. She deserved the saucy details. Well, at least some of them.

He looked at her and grinned widely. “It was fantastic!”

Sarah sighed in bliss when she heard his enthusiastic response. She leaned over the table and clasped her mug with both hands. “So, what’s his name. Did he – you know – drink your blood? What’s he like?”

“Well, his name is Viggo and I think he’s bloody gorgeous. There was some touching and groping and fondling going on in that booth. And yes, in the end he drank my blood.” Just thinking about it now made Orlando’s body tingle in all kinds of intimate places.

Sarah gasped hearing this and her mouth formed a perfect, surprised _ohh_. She reached over the table top and turned his head to the side. Her eyes went wide. “Wow. It doesn’t really look like it does in the movies.”

“What?” Orlando fingered the tiny wound. He hadn’t even looked in the mirror yet. It was Sunday, after all, no use bothering with appearances. He was pretty sure his hair was sticking out in every direction, so a love bite probably didn’t make such a big difference to his disheveled appearance.

“Well, there are two small puncture wounds on your neck. But they seem to be surrounded by the biggest hickey I’ve ever seen. That must have been quite a kiss.” She wiggled her brows suggestively.

Orlando laughed out loud, remembering that he had been thinking much the same last night. “Oh yeah, quite a kiss!”

“You look all glowing and happy,” Sarah informed him and Orlando felt himself blush. If he could just get rid of this annoying tendency where all of his blood rose to his cheeks on all kinds of occasions...

He shrugged nonchalantly. “You can tell that boyfriend of yours that his notions about the erogenous zones of vampires are bullshit. The equipment worked just like it should.”

“Glad to hear it,” Sarah snickered. “So, will we go there again?”

Orlando pretended to be thinking about it. “I don’t know. Maybe.” He paused for effect and bit his lip. “But I have his number.”

Sarah’s response could only be called a screech of surprise. “You do?” Her eyes went as wide as saucers. “You lucky bastard, I so envy you!”

“Hey, you’re the one with the adorable and faithful boyfriend! I was the one going to the club hoping to get laid.”

“And it worked out! You got his number, I can’t believe it. My best mate is dating a vampire!”

“Hey, hey. Hold your horses!” Orlando interjected. “No one is dating!” Sarah’s face fell, and Orlando added: “Yet.”

“But you want to. You will call him?”

Orlando did not even have to think about his answer. He could still feel the faint memory of Viggo’s touch on his skin, could hear his heart beat faster just because he was thinking of him. He was intriguied and he wanted more. “Oh, yes!”

Sarah jumped to her feet and gave Orlando a hug that nearly suffocated him.

~*~

Sarah had tried to convince Orlando that he absolutely had to call Viggo right away, the sooner the better. But Orlando had protested, not wanting to come across as desperate. In the end, she accepted his decision with a grumble and warned him that she wanted to be kept informed and that he better not dare do anything without her knowing about it. “Yes, Mom,” Orlando had answered with a broad grin and Sarah had left him to his own devices, hiding in her room.

Meanwhile, the afternoon was almost over. Orlando had spent it in the kitchen, drinking huge amounts of coffee and studying the books he had gotten from the library. He had just started his second term at Guildhall. They were still sitting in a classroom most of the time, but the prospect of doing an actual play in the near future had his whole class bouncing with excitment. Before that, though, it was books, books and even more books.

Sometimes, he heard a noise from Sarah’s room, which reassured him that the pungent odour of her oil paint hadn’t caused her to suffocate yet. She went to law school, because her parents were convinced this was the only education ensuring that their daughter would never have to worry about money. Problem was, money wasn’t all that important to Sarah. She hated law and told her parents so repeatedly, but so far she hadn’t been able to really stand up to them and just quit.

Her true passion was painting and in Orlando’s opinion she was pretty good at is as well. Her parents objected, horrified that their only daugther might end up as a pennyless artist. That her parents saw no merit in her paintings made her just as unhappy as the fact that they had forced law school on her.

Whenever time allowed, Sarah painted. Her easel took up most of the space in her tiny room and she was so productive that some of her paintings were permanently stored in the hallway, because she couldn’t fit them anywhere else. She had had a small exhibition at her favourite little café, but that hadn’t brought in any money. The people coming there weren’t the types who could afford to buy an oil painting. And so the canvases just kept on spawning. Orlando only hope was that they wouldn’t take over his room as well.

Around six, her door swung open allowing the penetrating smell of chemicals into the kitchen. Oil paint had a very distinct smell (or stench, as Orlando prefered to call it) and whenever she was done with a session, she would leave the window in her room wide open to let the air clear out.

“Been productive?” Orlando asked, looking up from his book.

Sarah nodded and a small smile played around her mouth. That could only mean that her afternoon had gone well. She was proud of herself. “And self?”

Orlando lifted his book. “Been trying to work through this, but I can’t really concentrate on it.”

Sarah smirked. “That’s probably because of that vampire of yours!”

“Ha! More like the severe bloodloss he caused me.”

Orlando had meant it as a joke, but Sarah looked like she had just noticed that a vampire bite actually could have side effects. “Oh, I didn’t even think... how do you feel anyway? You do look a little pale.”

Orlando waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry, I feel just fine.” He refrained from adding _properly shagged_. “You just go on with whatever you were doing.”

“Well, I wanted to meet up with Mike and grab a bite. But I could stay.”

“No way, you have a nice evening. Say hi to Mike from me!”

Sarah seemed relieved. “Will do. And I’ll bring some orange juice. It has a lot of vitamin c and that’s just what you need right now!” In addition to being a law student and a gifted painter, Sarah was also a health freak. She had given him endless lectures about the evil of French Fries and the advantages of wholegrain.

Sarah disappeared in the bathroom for a moment to make herself presentable. She was in the process of letting her hair grow out and it was just in that awkward stage where you couldn’t do anything with it. When she didn’t apply a whole arsenal of hair products her blonde hair looked like an elaborate bird’s nest. She was thorougly fed up with it, but Mike kept going on about how great she would look with long hair. _Well, the things you do for love,_ Orlando thought.

When she reappeared, Sarah’s hair had been combed and slicked into absolute submission. She was wearing jeans and a dark grey sweater and shrugged into her winter coat. She waved a goodbye at Orlando and made to leave, but stopped suddenly, her hand on the front door. She picked something up from the doormat and turned around, holding an impressive bouquet of dark roses in her hands. She inhaled deeply. “Wow, they’re scented. I guess they are yours.” She came back into the kitchen, putting the roses on the table in front of Orlando and opening cupboards in the hope of finding something to put them in.

“Mine?” Orlando was genuinely baffled. “Why should I get flowers? Maybe... Mike left them there for you to find.”

“Of course,” Sarah said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “In the two years we’ve been together, he not once brought me flowers. It’s unlikely that he’ll start now. Accept it, the bouquet is probably from your undead admirer.”

Sarah had a point. Maybe Viggo had followed him here to leave the roses on his doorstep. That

he had been followed made him vaguely uncomfortable for a moment before he decided to simply be thankful for the gift. No one had ever given him flowers before.

“Maybe your Viggo’s a gentleman and has decided to properly woo you,” Sarah enthused while she put the flowers in a beer glass that had been standing in a dark and unused corner of their cupboard. Usually, they just drank their beer straight from the bottle.

“My Viggo had his hand in my trousers within the first fifteen minutes of our acquaintance. Do you really think that’s gentlemanly?”

Sarah huffed. “You could always call him and ask.”

Orlando had to admit, she was right about that.

~*~

Two days later, on Tuesday afternoon, Orlando had finally built up enough courage to dial the number Viggo had scribbled on _Fangtastic’s_ business card. He was glad that he hadn’t listened to Sarah and called Viggo right away. The last two days had given Orlando opportunity to think. Despite his initial enthusiasm about the entire affair, he had to admit that he felt quite conflicted about Viggo. It wasn’t that he was suddenly questioning his attraction to Viggo. His body tended to react to the mere thought of Viggo and Orlando found himself daydreaming about Viggo repeatedly.

Even though the vampire’s presence had somewhat intimidated him on their first meeting, Viggo had all the characteristics Orlando found attractive in a man. There was the tall and lean physique and the fact that Viggo appeared to move with the elegance of a dancer ( _or maybe it was the elegance of a predator,_ his traiterous mind supplied). There was the slighly longish hair that simply begged Orlando to run his hands through it. There was the quiet voice sending delicate shivers down Orlando’s spine. And finally, there were his unusual eyes. Viggo’s intense gaze had felt like it was piercing Orlando’s soul.

It was useless to deny his attraction, but could their short erotic encounter really lead to something more? Orlando wanted to believe it, but the more time passed, the more doubt snaked its way into his thoughts. Vampires had been out in the open for more than a year now. They had been _the_ news item for a while. Each newspaper, magazine, tv and radio station had covered the big coming out of the undead. There had been talk shows, books and talks in the parliament. There had been demonstrations by worried parents and young girls offering their necks to everyone who looked even remotely like a vampire. People had been excited, curious, fascinated and horrified – probably in equal amount. However, in the end, the frenzy had died down, but the fact remained that vampires were not beings out of myth anymore. They were part of society now, opened businesses and voted in the elections. And still, vampires and humans seemed to live parallell lives, their paths did not usually cross. Before being dragged to _Fangtastic_ , Orlando had never seen a vampire up close. This was all new to him and he had to admit to himself that it frightened him, just a little bit.

He knew nothing about vampires except for what he had seen on the telly. What if they just pretended to be loyal citizens so that they could profit from human society? What if they truly were monsters, preying on everyone with a pulse? What if the fundamental vampire haters were right after all and it was impossible for humans and vampires to coexist? If that was truly the case, then calling Viggo might just spell Orlando’s doom. He had seen _Dracula_ , so he knew that inviting a vampire into one’s home was suicidal. Making that one call could very well set him on a road from where there was no way back. Did he want that? Was he ready? Was he brave enough to go through with it?

He had pondered all these questions until his head started to hurt. Sometimes, his normal, boring and assimilated self had appeared showing him all the dangers of calling Viggo. He told himself to just find a nice, normal boyfriend. Maybe someone from his Guildhall class. They would have a lot in common and were at the same point in their lives. That was what the basis for a relationship should look like. And with a boyfriend like this he wouldn’t run the risk of being bled dry. Because, what if Viggo had just liked the taste of Orlando’s blood. What if he wanted more of it? Or even all of it?

Had Viggo just put on a show in the club? Orlando desperately wanted to believe that this wasn’t the case. He had felt the danger when Viggo had first kissed him. Viggo had not held back in that regard – maybe he simply couldn’t. A moment before Viggo had pierced Orlando’s skin with his teeth, Orlando had realized with surprising clarity that Viggo was looking at him through a predator’s eyes. And still, Orlando had not even tried to stop him, because despite this realization he had felt safe. The predator had been there, but it had not taken over. Viggo was no monster, he just had to trust his gut feeling on this.

After much consideration, Orlando had arrived at the point where he was ready to call Viggo. The thought gave him a thrill, which was part excitement and part fear of taking this risk. But that was normal, he told himself. It always was a risk if you wanted to gain something. And if you wanted to gain something big, something important and really worthwile, Orlando supposed that the risk had to be equally bigger as well.

In the morning, he had woken with the decision that today he would finally call Viggo. In class, he had been jittery and barely able to concentrate. The fates had taken pity on him, because one of their tutors had fallen ill. At such short notice, there was no replacement, and everyone was sent home early. Orlando had rushed home, mentally preparing what he would say to Viggo, and was now sitting in his room, holding his mobile in one hand and the business card with Viggo’s number in the other.

His nerves fluttered in his stomach, but he took a deep breath and dialed. The phone was answered after the first ring. Maybe he should have written something down, but it was too late for that now.

To his horror, it was not Viggo who answered the phone, but a female voice sounding very business-like. “ _L’Art Vivant_ , this is Liv Tyler speaking. How may I help you?”

Of all the scenarios that had run through his mind, this was not one he could have foreseen. His nerves became worse and he felt a sudden vacuum take up his mind. Orlando pondered ending the call then and there without saying anything, but Sarah would never let him live this down if she got wind of it. Hadn’t he decided to take chances? Well, he better get his act together. Soon.

“Umm.” This was not a very elaborate start. “Maybe I dialed the wrong number? I wanted to speak to Viggo.” In that very moment he realized that he didn’t even know Viggo’s last name.

The woman on the other end purposefully ignored Orlando using Viggo’s first name and answered professionally, “Mr Mortensen can’t answer the phone right now. I could take him a message if you told me who you were.”

To her credit, she sounded perfectly friendly and polite. The reminder that he had forgotten to introduce himself properly stung anyway and he felt himself blush. He really needed to work on his telephone skills.

“Oh, of course,” he stuttered. “I’m Orlando. Orlando Bloom.” He paused, trying to decide what message to give her that would convey his interest to Viggo without having to lay out his heart open to this woman.

Liv interjected and now her business-voice was exchanged for something that sounded decidedly cheery and interested. “Orlando!” she exclaimed. “Viggo told me all about you.” Orlando desperately hoped that wasn’t true. “He really can’t answer the phone right now, it’s only 3 o’clock after all, but I can see your number on the display. Do you want him to call you back? I know he would like to, there’s been no living with him for the last few days.”

“Umm, yes please,” he forced out, her chatter making him only more monosyllabic. Who was this woman?

Orlando ended the call a moment later and let his head fall onto the table, hitting the top repeatedly in the vain hope that the motion would drive some sense into his skull – and into his vocal cords. Surely, this Liv Tyler must think he was a blabbering idiot. He hadn’t managed one straight sentence. If he had had all his wits about him, he might have asked Ms Tyler who the hell she was and why she was answering Viggo’s phone.

This was all way too confusing. He let his head rest uselessly on the table until the thought occured to him that he had also learnt something. He now knew that Viggo’s last name was Mortensen. That was something you could look up in the phonebook. Or on Google. And he knew where he worked... if only Orlando could remember how Liv had answered the phone. _Art Viva_ something?

~*~

As it turned out, Viggo didn’t work for a gallery called _L’Art Vivant_ , he owned it. Up until now, Orlando hadn’t put much thought into what Viggo did for a living. Hell, he hadn’t even considered that vampires did, in fact, work instead of just enjoying the riches they had accumulated over their many centuries. Finding that Viggo owned an art gallery was a shock and a pleasant surprise all in one. Orlando had had his fair share of dates in his life, but for the most part it had been fellow students: people who were just as young and idealistic and broke as he was. He had a lot in common with them. But what did he have in common with a vampire owning a gallery? If on a date, would they even find a topic that interested them equally? Suddenly, he feared that this was truly nothing more than simple attraction. Nothing more than the quick fuck that had taken place in _Fangastic_. Damn.

He spent the whole afternoon memorizing the website and pondering what it might all mean. Shortly after six, when the sun had already gone down, Sarah came home, thankfully interrupting his musings. He had his laptop on the table and was morosely browsing the _L’Art Vivant_ website when Sarah rushed into his room, falling onto his bed like she had every right to be there. He knew she had seen her parents, which usually meant that she needed someone to listen to her rants. But she was distracted by seeing the website he was browsing. He saw the wheels turning in her head before her eyes narrowed.

“You finally called him, didn’t you?”

“Well, yes and no.”

Sarah was practically bouncing on the bed, her whole body showing her excitement. “Don’t speak in riddles. What do you mean, yes and no? Either you called or you didn’t!”

“I called him. But the phone was answered by a woman.”

Sarah looked first puzzled, then shocked. “His wife?”

This was exactly what he had been thinking initially as well, but maybe that was too easy an answer. “I don’t think so. She introduced herself as Liv Tyler.” He waved in the general direction of the laptop. “The website says she’s the co-owner of Viggo’s gallery.” That was all, co-owner. Nowhere on the website was there any mention of them being husband and wife.

“Gallery?! Well, I guess it’s the irony of my life. You, future theatre actor, get to hook up with a gallery owner, while I, vastly talented but sadly unsuccessful painter, end up with a computer programmer.” Sarah made a face. “Can I maybe steal him away from you?”

“No!” Orlando ordered, looking sternly at her, even though he knew that nothing, not even the prospect of dating the owner of a gallery, could drag Sarah away from Mike.

She huffed and shooed Orlando away from his desk. Sarah sat down and browsed the website Orlando had googled, clicking here and there and looking at some of the artwork that was displayed on the site itself.

“Looks really interesting. But why would Viggo give you a business number. I mean, it could be that this Liv is only his associate, but how probable is that? They could be shagging after all.”

Orlando’s face fell. It didn’t say anything about husband and wife on the website, but sadly – as Sarah had pointed out so eloquently – that left quite a few other options that Orlando really didn’t want to pursue any further. He could only judge the situation by the few minutes he had talked to Liv (or rather: the few minutes Liv had talked to him). And she had sounded sincere. “She said, Viggo had talked about me and that he hoped I would call. But she could be lying. Oh, I don’t know...!”

Sarah looked very determined all of a sudden. “I think we need to do some reconnaissance. This gallery is in Kensington. We could just go there, have a look, see what this Liv is like.”

“You sound like this is a war! I don’t know whether that’s such a good idea.” Orlando didn’t like the mad gleam in Sarah’s eyes. “I’m not sure about this, what if Viggo shows up? Or Liv recognizes my voice? This is way too risky. She said he would call me back, I should probably just wait for him to do so.”

“You have no sense for adventure, Orlando! Sometimes, you’re no fun at all.”

She probably would have said more, had not the sudden ring of Orlando’s mobile interrupted them. He looked at the display and saw a string of numbers. Not someone he had on his contast list then. Heart suddenly pounding madly, he pressed the green button. “Hello?”

“Hi.” Orlando could hear a smile in that one word. “It’s Viggo.” His voice was as quiet as it had been in the club and its timbre did wicked things to Orlando. A shiver of anticipation ran up his spine. His nerves tingled and his heart wouldn’t stop beating madly in his chest.

“Viggo,” Orlando said a little breathlessly. Upon hearing the name, Sarah sat up straighter and made to sit nearer to Orlando, hoping to at least catch part of the conversation. Orlando would have none of it, this was too personal, too intimate. He wanted Viggo all to himself, so he waved at her and then pointed to his door, hoping to convey the fact that he wanted her out of the room. When her progress wasn’t fast enough for him, he mouthed _now_. She raised her hands in defeat and left, closing the door behind her. He could still hear her snicker goodnaturedly.

Orlando settled back on his bed, and tried to ignore the butterflies in his belly. It felt like they were beating their wings as quickly and strongly as they could. It actually tickled. From the inside. And in a very good way.

“Are you still there, Orlando? I hope I didn’t call at a bad time?”

“No, no! Of course not. I’m glad you called.” He was desperate to ask about Liv, but didn’t quite know how to go about it. Viggo, in his uncanny way, seemed to know exactly what was on Orlando’s mind. “I hope you weren’t too surprised to end up talking to Liv.” Viggo let that hang between them, giving Orlando the opportunity to ask whatever he wanted.

“A bit,” Orlando answered. It was the understatement of the year, but Viggo didn’t seem to mind.

“During the day my calls get forwarded to the gallery. I probably should have warned you about that, but we didn’t actually get the chance to talk much after... well, you know.” Oh, Orlando did know. Viggo had bitten Orlando while simoultaneously giving him the best handjob of his yet young life. Orlando had blacked out from the double assault, so naturally there had been no pillow talk. When he had come to, he had been alone.

“So, Liv works for you?” Better to get this out in the open right away.

“Well,” Viggo answered, sounding a little unsure. “We both own the gallery. She’s my associate.”

“Nothing more?” There it was, the sting of green.

Viggo didn’t answer, giving Orlando much food for his suspicions. “That’s not an easy question to answer,” Viggo said eventually, which did nothing to reassure Orlando.

“I think it’s a very easy question to answer. It’s either yes or no.”

Orlando heard Viggo sigh over the line. “I can’t tell you all this now, Orlando, I’m sorry. But please believe me when I tell you that you have nothing to fear from Liv. Whatever my relationship with her, she’s no competition.”

Orlando thought about this for a moment. Viggo sounded sincere, but Orlando would still have prefered a simple no to answer his question. What could be so difficult about that?

The silence stretched until Viggo felt compelled to add: “Please, trust me on this? At least for a while.”

“Okay.” That one word was out before Orlando had ample time to think about it. Liv was not forgotten, however, he would get to the bottom of this. Just, maybe not right away.

None of them seemed to quite know what to say next. After a moment of silence, Viggo cleared his throat. “So.” Another pause followed, in which Viggo seemed to decide to go boldly forwards. “I can’t tell you how glad I am you called, Orlando. Actually, I was starting to lose hope you would do so. I very much enjoyed our little rendezvous. And not only for the reasons you might think.”

Viggo was trying to steer their talk awa from Liv and Orlando needed a moment to change direction as well. “And what reasons might that be?” He asked in a voice that was not at all steady.

“Well, our little enounter in that booth, for instance. I can still taste you, you know. Your heart, beating so intoxicatingly fast, drumming against my lips. It’s addictive.”

Viggo’s voice was low and promising and Orlando made a little helpless sound.

Viggo interrupted his own train of thought. “Are you all right? Did I say something wrong?” It wasn’t that Viggo sounded insecure all of a sudden. He sounded more like he really wanted to do things right, didn’t want to mess this up. Maybe he was just as nervous as Orlando? That was a very encouraging thought, because it meant Orlando wasn’t alone in this.

“Yes,” Orlando wheezed. “I mean, no. Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine. I was just ... surprised.”

“Surprised? Don’t think our meeting was something I would call ordinary. In that case, I wouldn’t have left my number. I want more of you, Orlando. I want to know you. That you decided to call me makes me hope you want the same.” There was a question mark hanging in the air after that last sentence.

Orlando felt desire stir in him, just from hearing Viggo speak. That man had the most thrilling, but also frightening, effect on him. Never had anyone said such things to him. It had always been either _wanna go for a beer_ or _I like your ass_ or any combination of the two. But Viggo’s words made him feel special, like he had truly made an impression. That felt incredibly good.

“Yes, I want that as well. And I’m sorry I called so late. I had a lot to think about.”

Viggo was silent for a moment. “I can imagine. I’m not exactly normal.” There was a faint feeling of regret in his voice, but it was chased away by humour only a moment later. “I would say that I don’t bite, but you already know that that would be a lie.”

That broke the ice. Orlando chuckled, his nerves dissolving. “I liked it,” he admitted.

“Oh, believe me, I noticed,” Viggo countered.

“You did, didn’t you?” Orlando lured and Viggo laughed, a low rumble of amusement.

“The evidence was hard to miss,” was his answer. Orlando got the impression that they could go on like this for the rest of the night, trading witty remarks. However, he wanted things go forward. Initially, he had called Viggo to let him know he was interested in more. It was unfair to let Viggo do all the work.

“Viggo, I want to see you again.”

“I thought you’d never ask.” Viggo sounded relieved. “I’m out of town for the next couple of days. I need to take care of some business. But how about next Saturday? I’ll come by and take you on a date. Let’s say around 8?”

“Sounds good to me.” The butterflies in his belly were back in full force, flapping their tiny wings madly.

“What would you like to do? Theatre, cinema, skydiving? Anything in particular that would give me a good chance of winning your favour?”

Orlando thought for a moment, wanted to tell Viggo that he had already won his affection. In the end, he decided against it. Don’t be too forward, he told himself. Things will develop on their own. “Anything but the skydiving sounds good to me.”

“Alright. I’ll think of something else then,” Viggo teased.

~*~

“This is a really, really bad idea,” Orlano was saying, probably for the hundreth time. They were just exiting the tube station and orienting themselves until Sarah pointed to her right.

“This way, I think.” Orlando had tried repeatedly to convince Sarah that it was truly unnecessary to check out Viggo’s gallery. He wasn’t even sure why exactly they were going there now. Viggo had made it quite clear that Liv was no competition and Orlando was inclined to believe him. But even though Orlando was ready to give Viggo the benefit of the doubt, Sarah was unwilling to abandon her original plan.

She had written down the address, had looked for the nearest tube station and had then almost bodily forced Orlando to join her in her endeavor. Orlando was sulking and making quite a show of his protest, but if he was honest with himself, he had to admit that he was just a tiny bit curious as well.

“Oh come on, I know you’re curious as hell,” Sarah pointed out. “Stop pretending that you hate being here. We both know it’s not true.”

“Mrpfh,” Orlando forced out, which made Sarah laugh hysterically. Yes, she was right, at least a little. It was Wednesday, still three days until his date with Viggo and he was strung tight with nerves and curiosity and excitement. To have this chance at a little sneak preview into Viggo’s life was a welcome distraction.

Orlando hadn’t even paid attention to where they were going until Sarah suddenly stopped, her hand going out to catch his. “I think, this is it,”she said, standing in front of a brick house with a wide glass front, which allowed passers-by to have a look inside.

“Wow,” was all Orlando could say, his eyes roaming this way and that, trying to take in every detail of the house in front of them. It was a three-story corner building, situated across a lovely little garden square. The main door was at its head and a smaller one on its right side. The ground level had big picture windows, showing off some artwork and a few souvenir items that were probably inevitable in this part of London. Even from the outside the ground level seemed huge and Orlando was impressed to the point of having nothing to say.

He stood spell-bound for a while, staring unseeing at the art displayed in the windows, until Sarah dragged him to the door, all chipper and excited.

“This looks amazing,” she enthused. “We absolutely have to go in!” He should have known that she wouldn’t be content with standing outside and peeking in through the windows. He sighed and followed, feeling quite certain that this could only end in a desaster.

The inside was just as spacious as he had suspected. The gallery was currently running an exhibition called _Metropolis_ , featuring the work of two different artists. The left wing of the gallery showcased black-and-white photographs of a city, most likely New York. The right wing housed large paintings showing every-day scenes from London. Orlando could count on one hand the times he had spent in galleries (mostly with Sarah, actually), but he was feeling right at home here. The setting was charming and he would have liked to quietly peruse the art displayed. Sarah was talking a mile a minute though, which promptly interrupted his train of thought. Clearly, she was enjoying herself.

It was still early, the gallery had probably only opened recently, and a young couple with backbacks were the only other visitors. They were browsing the collection of vintage postcards on display. Orlando was just about to suggest to Sarah that they leave since Liv Tyler was obviously not here, when the couple had finally decided on a few postcards. Immediately, a tall, impeccably dressed woman appeared to cash the postcards, handing them to the couple in a small paperbag and sending them on their way with a winning smile.

“That must be her,” Orlando whispered. Her obvious beauty put quite a damper on his mood. She looked like a woman used to getting what she wanted. If she wanted Viggo, Orlando supposed the man stood not chance.

“How do you know?” Sarah inquired.

“Her voice, I recognize it.”

Sarah took another look, trying hard to be stealthy and failing miserably. After a moment, she proceeded to the next painting, and pretended to fully concentrate on the art. “She’s very pretty. To tell you the truth, if I were a guy, I’d definitely be shagging her.” That was mostly what Orlando had been thinking. That Sarah agreed with his assessment didn’t reassure him at all.

Liv was tall and long-limbed. She was slim without losing her curves. Apparently, she was one of the lucky few whose skin was perfect enough that she could get along without putting on any makeup. It appeared like she had applied nothing but a little lipgloss. Her hair was long and raven. To have it out of her face she had put it into a lose bun, purposefully letting a few strands escape. The seemingly careless hairdo was at odds with her sharp clothing – a black costume with a skirt that covered her knees. Orlando would have expected such a style in a bank, but not in an art gallery. Still, she was breathtaking, no doubt about it.

Seeing her effortless elegance, Orlando desperately hoped that she was really no competition. He felt woefully inadequate in his faded jeans and his brown curls that always stuck out in every direction.

“I think I’ve seen enough,” Orlando mumbled. “Let’s go.”

Sarah seemed reluctant, but she agreed eventually. Before they had a chance to leave, a new customer came in, walking purposefully along the displayed art as if he owned the place. He was a bit older than Orlando, maybe in his late twenties, and had dark blond hair that was long enough to fall into his striking blue eyes. He was good-looking, but his features had an edge to them that made Orlando feel vaguely uncomfortable.

Liv immediately went to the newcomer and whispered fiercely, but he was staring at one of the photographs, apparently not caring what Liv was saying to him. In turn, her voice became louder, and she squared her shoulders unconsciously, getting ready for a confrontation.

“Marcus, I really have to ask you to leave.”

“Oh, but I just wanted to have a look at the new exhibition. Viggo has really outdone himself with that one. I’d like to congratulate him,” the man answered and his voice was dripping with sarcasm.

Upon hearing Viggo’s name, Orlando strained his ears to catch more of the conversation.

“You know full well that Viggo will not see you. He told you plainly not to come here anymore.”

“It’s a gallery, I’m a customer.” His voice had a hard, mocking edge.

“Then buy something and leave,” Liv sighed in exasperation. Marcus seemed unwilling to do either of these things, which only infuriated Liv more. Orlando got the distinct impression that she was a force to be reckoned with. She crossed her arms in front of her and glared at Marcus. She looked at him like she might look at a particularly nasty bug.

“Viggo doesn’t want to get a restraining order, but I will if you keep coming here. You’re not welcome.” Liv looked perfectly honest, but Marcus seemed hardly intimidated. Orlando suspected that he was either very brave or very stupid.

Marcus gave a dramatic sigh and threw his hands up. “Fine, Liv. But you know you haven’t seen the last of me. All my best to Viggo!” He waved a hand at her, making it quite clear that nothing she would say or do could force him to leave. If he did so, it was his own decision.

“You can bet I’ll not tell him you were here,” Liv ground out and Marcus gave a sharp bark of laughter before he left as abruptly as he had come, slamming the door behind him.

“That was interesting,” Sarah said under her breath, but her comment was still loud enough to make Liv aware of the fact that she was not alone. Her cheeks were flushed, evidencing the fact that she was unused to throwing people out of her gallery. The moment she noticed Sarah and Orlando, her cheeks flushed even deeper. Evidently, she was embarassaded that someone had been witness to that encounter.

She hurried over to them, trying to salvage the situation. “I’m sorry you had to see this. I hope you believe me when I say that something like this doesn’t happen on a daily basis.” Liv looked at them earnestly.

“Don’t worry,” Sarah tried to put Liv at ease, but the other woman seemed unconsolable about the situation, so Sarah tried to distract her. “I really like the exhibition. Showing two artists together like that, it’s a clever idea. It adds a new layer to both their work, truly interesting.”

Liv relaxed visibly, happy to be back on familiar ground. “Yes, we do that often. Have you found anything particular to your liking?”

Sarah grinned, chagrined. “Well, I like one of the photographs, but I’m just a poor student. I could never afford it.” She shrugged.

Liv smiled brilliantly. “Which one? We have smaller prints of most of them.”

Orlando stayed in the background and kept his mouth shut to not give Liv an opportunity to recognize his voice. He watched the ensuing conversation in which Liv tried to gift Sarah with a print – as compensation for the scene she had to witness earlier – and Sarah replying that she absolutely could not.

As Orlando had suspected, it was difficult to stand your ground if you were in one room with Liv Tyler. When they finally left, Sarah had a big bag in her hand. In it was the black-and-white print of the photoraph that had caught her eye in the exhibition.

“She’s really nice, you know,” Sarah was saying when they were back in the tube and on their way home.

“She bought your loyalty with an old photograph!”Orlando replied, feeling just a little betrayed.

“You’re just jealous because you didn’t get one.”

“Am not.”

“Am too.”

~*~

Orlando hadn’t been jealous. No, truly. No jealousy there. Admittedly, the print Sarah had gotten was beautiful – at least from the standpoint of an aspiring actor who had absolutely no knowledge about art. It’s grainy black-and-white surface, the almost otherworldy appearance of 1920’s New York - it had touched something in him.

So maybe he had liked the print. But he hadn’t been jealous.

Sarah had hung the photograph in the kitchen, under the pretense that her own room was full of her own paintings. “They’re a little too colourful and lively to look good with this,” she had said, holding a water-level to ensure the picture hung even on their kitchen wall. She had come down from the chair she had stood upon to drill in the bolt and moved to the other side of the room, crossing her arms and nodding her head approvingly.

“Looks good. What do you think?”

Orlando had just shrugged. If he had to be honest, he thought the photograph looked a little sad in that spot – it was a lone hero of beauty in a kitchen consisting of mis-matched appliances, a table whose paint was peeling off in long strips and a wallpaper whose colour was somewhere between slime-green and snot-yellow. Poor thing.

That had been on Friday. Meanwhile, it was Saturday afternoon and Orlando was a hopeless bundle of nerves. Sarah had forced one of her teas on him to calm him down, claiming that there was a tea for every situation. That was probably why she had a huge collection of teas stored in one of the cupboards. Orlando half expected her to truly get out a tea labeled _Last Minute Nerves Before An Important Date_ , but what she eventually gave him was simply called _Wild Passion_. It tasted nothing like he would imagine wild passion – more like lame strawberry and cream. But he was thankful for her continued handholding.

He was bouncing in his chair, finding it impossible to sit still.

What should he wear? With a sudden panic he realized that he should have asked Viggo where he would take him. There was even more room for error when he had to choose clothing for an unknown activity.

“What if we won’t know what to talk about?” he asked in horror, sipping from his tea and burning the tip of his tongue in the process.

“I’m sure you’ll find a topic,” Sarah said soothingly.

“But he’s so much older than I am! Maybe we have nothing in common!” His heart sped up. Apparently, the tea wasn’t helping at all.

“Orlando,” Sarah said in that earnest voice his own mother used to employ when she tried to explain a simple truth of life to him. “He’s a vampire. He’s probably not only _much_ _older_ than you are. It’s likely that he’s _much, much older_. However, if he didn’t think you’d have something in common, I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t have left you his number.”

“ _Much, much older_?” Orlando asked in a tiny voice. “Gods, I hadn’t even thought about that.” He banged his head against the table. “I’m doomed.”

Sarah rolled her eyes at Orlando’s antics. “Have you heard anything I just said? Viggo wants to know you better. All you have to do is be your usual charming self. One of those smiles of yours and he’ll be putty in your hands. And now stop banging your head against that poor table before you end up with a lump in the middle of your forehead.”

“I don’t want putty in my hands,” Orlando mumbled. “I want a big, hard ...”

Sarah’s eyes went wide and she shook her head wildly. “Whoa, Orlando! You know I love you, but that’s just too much information!”

Seeing her all flustered was exactly what Orlando needed. When he looked up, his eyes were sparkling with humour. “I think the tea is helping after all, I’m feeling much better all of a sudden.”

His feeling better lasted until they went to Orlando’s room to pick out some clothes for him. He had a weakness for flashy clothes and took pride in the fact that he managed to dress in a fashionable yet original way despite money being constantly scarce. Unfortunately, his indecision about what to wear seemed to grow exponentially to the size of his wardrobe, so it took quite a while until he found something both he and Sarah could agree upon. She had vetoed the yellow shirt and chequered trousers (both as an ensemble _and_ individually), telling him he looked like a clown in it. But he had smuggled bright yellow socks into an otherwise rather conservative ensemble of black jeans and a midnight blue button down shirt. To relieve the rather monochromatic outfit a bit, he wore a simple white t-shirt underneath. It flashed promisingly beneath the topmost two buttons, which he had left open.

Orlando stood in the middle of his small room and Sarah circled around him with a critical eye. “Perfect, just perfect! I think I can let you leave the house in this.”

“The yellow t-shirt was nice, too,” Orlando mock-scowled, but Sarah was not baited.

“You can wear that when you both celebrate your twentieth anniversary with a costume party,” she answered in all seriousness.

That earned her a tight embrace from Orlando. “You’re the best, you know,” Orlando said when he let go of her and Sarah smiled proudly.

“I’ll remind you of that when my next birthday comes up and I need someone to do all the menial tasks of cooking and baking.”

Orlando took on a comical expression, but he was saved from replying by the doorbell. In alarm, he looked at his watch. It was ten minutes to eight. If that was Viggo, he was too early.

He headed over to the front door with Sarah close on his heels. His nerves were returning with a vengeance which caused his heart to beat in a frenzied staccato. He wound a limegreen scarf around his neck, which earned him a scandalized look from Sarah, and shrugged into his black coat. Orlando assumed Viggo was waiting outside for him, and was just about to open to front door and head down, when there was a knock on their door.

“Somone is being impatient,” Sarah giggled good-naturedly behind him and Orlando opened the door, revealing Viggo standing on the other side, a bouquet of red roses in his hands. They resembled the ones Orlando had gotten a week ago.

For just one moment, Orlando forgot how to breathe. Yes, he had fallen asleep to the thought of Viggo’s handsome face for the past week, but now he couldn’t shake the sudden impression that Viggo was even more gorgeous than he remembered. Viggo wore his long black coat unbuttoned and Orlando could faintly see a silk shirt peek out underneath. It seemed to be of the same colour as the roses. Apparently, Viggo had a thing for red, which wouldn’t be all that surprising considering that he was a vampire.

Viggo’s pale face was in stark contrast to the black coat. His best feature (in Orlando’s humble opinion anyway) were his eyes, though. They were as blue as a clear spring somewhere up in the mountains and they were focused just on Orlando right now. A smile curled around Viggo’s lips and he dipped his head a little.

Sarah gave him a shove from behind. It was high time he found his voice again. “Hi,” he managed to say at last and shuddered inwardly at how squeaky his voice sounded. Viggo seemed not to mind, because his smile widened.

“Good evening, Orlando,” he replied, his voice low and promising. Viggo buried his nose in the roses for a moment, as if to enjoy their beguiling fragrance one last time, and then held the bouquet out to Orlando, giving an old-fashioned bow.

Orlando took the roses from Viggo and their hands brushed for a moment. Viggo’s skin was cool but not cold, and the unplanned touch made Orlando’s finger tingle. Viggo did not waste his chance and held on to Orlando’s hand gently. He turned it palm upwards, mirroring the gesture he had used in the club. The vampire lifted Orlando’s wrist to his lips and brushed them against the pulse point. It was a fleeting caress stating Viggo’s interest without forcing too much contact on Orlando. He felt his pulse beat forcefully against Viggo’s slightly opened mouth. The other man’s lips curved in a smile, a motion Orlando felt rather than saw.

“You are most enticing,” Viggo whispered once he let go of Orlando’s hand. The young man instantly mourned the loss of contact, hoping fervently that this would not stay the only caress they would share this night.

Behind him, Sarah gave a blissful sigh and Orlando turned like a man waking from a most pleasant dream. He had all but forgotten about her and was now embarrassed about the show they had given her.

She ducked under his arm and rushed past Viggo like she was practicing for a slalom.

“Hi, I’m Sarah,” she waved at the surprised vampire and then gave Orlando a wink. “And I’m gone for the night. The flat is all yours!”

Orlando had managed to not blush until now, but after Sarah’s unambiguous words he knew he stood no chance. He felt his cheeks turn hot at Sarah’s oblique offer, but Viggo simply grinned wolfishly. It appeared that if things went Viggo’s way, there would absolutely be more touching tonight!

Not sure how to proceed from here, Orlando saved himself by remembering the flowers. “I’ll just put them in the water before we leave.” He turned back into the flat and heard Viggo come in behind him. A few roses of the first bouquet had survived the whole week and Orlando put the new additions with their fellows. Apparently, Viggo was amused by the vase Orlando used.

“A beer glass?” he heard Viggo say behind him. There was a low chuckle.

Orlando ducked his head sheepishly. “Well, when Sarah and I moved in here, we could only bring what we absolutely needed. Vases were very low on the list.”

“We have to remedy that then.” Orlando just shrugged. If he had to be honest, he’d much prefer a dishwasher, but of course he didn’t say that out loud.

Viggo held out his hand to Orlando and without thinking Orlando took it, instantly loving the way Viggo’s fingers curled around his.

When they were downstairs, Viggo led Orlando over to a sleek Mercedes and opened the door for him. Orlando admitted to himself that he had not thought much about what kind of car a vampire would drive, but somehow he had not expected something so ... contemporary. It was a giant black limousine – at least the colour was no surprise in Orlando’s estimation.

“A Mercedes?” he asked when they had both fastened their seatbelts and Viggo was filing into traffic. “Isn’t that a bit much for London? I mean, traffic here is mostly at a standstill anyway.” The seats were burgundery leather and all kinds of flashy lights were blinking on the dashboard. This was how he would imagine an airplane, not a car. Orlando looked at the spacious backseat. It was likely that he could stretch out back there. With ease.

Viggo stroked the steering wheel fondly, a motion Orlando found rather suggestive. “I must admit, cars are my weakness. Driving this baby in London is like having a thoroughbred in your living room, but I like taking the car out to the countryside and just drive the night away.”

“Sounds wonderful,” Orlando found himself saying. Spending a night with Viggo in his car while the darkness was pressing against the windshield truly sounded like something he’d like to try. They could make their own little world inside the car and Orlando would hold onto Viggo’s hand on the gear shift while Viggo would let the engine roar.

“We can do that sometime,” Viggo offered. “If you want, you could drive the car across the countryside. It’s a rush, I promise.”

Orlando could very well imagine that, but he wasn’t sure he was brave enough to drive Viggo’s car. He didn’t even want to think about what it had cost – with the comfortable leather, the blinking lights and the sheer size of it. And making a dent into it would probably ruin it forever. “I’d love to, but I’d fear for you car if I were you. I don’t really have much chance to drive. And if I do, it’s my Mom’s old Vauxhall.”

“Not quite the same league,” Viggo agreed without taking back his initial offer.

Orlando shook his head. “It’s not even the same species!” He laughed.

For some reason, that comment seemed to sober Viggo up. It wasn’t at all what Orlando had intended and he bit his lip contritely. “Did I say something wrong?”

Viggo visibly rallied and took his eyes off the road for a moment to look at Orlando. He took his left hand off the steering wheel to brush it against Orlando’s cheek. Their gazes met, for a second only, and then the moment passed and the birth of some crazy idea glinted in Viggo’s eyes. Before Orlando could interpret the look, Viggo concentrated on the road again. “You didn’t, don’t worry. But... let me think. If you’d feel better driving something smaller, I also own a vintage Porsche Spyder,” Viggo offered nonchalantly.

Orlando just gaped. He didn’t know much about cars, but he did know that one. “You’re kidding.”

“No. I’m a vampire, we’re not supposed to be funny.”

“Could have fooled me,” Orlando muttered and Viggo laughed, his hands curling tightly around the wheel.

“But a Porsche? Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

Orlando thought for a moment. “Show off.”

“Is it working?” Viggo asked with a wink.

Orlando nodded weekly. “Yeah.”

“Good,” Viggo said and turned the car left into a smaller road before parking it and getting out to open the door for Orlando.

“We’re there?” the younger man asked curiously when Viggo took his hand with a bow to help him out of the car. “I know I said I didn’t get much practice driving a car, but I am actually able to get out of one all by myself,” Orlando noted with a smile.

Viggo brushed his lips against the back of Orlando’s hand in a motion so fast Orlando barely had the chance to properly enjoy the contact. “Well, maybe I’m just jumping at every opportunity to touch you.”

“In that case, I won’t mind.” Orlando smiled, hoping the invitation was clearly visible on his face. “Where are we going anyway?”

“Not far, just across the road.” Viggo pointed at a cozily lit building that turned out to be a restaurant. They walked side by side, their arms brushing from time to time until they reached the door. Viggo held it open for Orlando and when he entered, he felt Viggo’s hand at the small of his back, a steady presence reminding him of the fact that Viggo seemed indeed determined to use every opportunity he got. Orlando mourned the loss of contact when they were finally seated.

The restaurant was upscale enough that several wine glasses and a confusing number of cutlery was on the table, but it was not upscale enough that the menu was entirely in French and the waiter looked like he had swallowed a broomstick. It was highly unlikely that Orlando would have ever gone here by himself, but it was not so far out of his reach that he felt uncomfortably misplaced. So all things considered, Viggo had made a good choice taking him here.

Orlando studied the menu intently, trying to decide on something exotic enough to celebrate their date, but not exotic enough to cost a fortune. The selection of food was mouth-watering and for a few minutes he was so engrossed in the menu that he failed to notice that Viggo was studying him and not the impressive list of starters.

“You already know what you’re taking?”

“Well, umm.” Viggo scratched the back of his neck, a gesture Orlando found so human that he had to blink. “Actually, I don’t eat.”

Orlando looked up from his menu and stared at Viggo, dumbfounded. “What do you mean, you don’t eat?”

“What I said. I don’t eat. Food, at least.”

Orlando was perplexed. Viggo had taken him to a restaurant, which was all fine and good. And then he expected him to ... what? Eat all by himself? His consternation must have been clearly visible on his face.

“I’m sorry,” Viggo apologized, looking truly crushed. “Can I make a confession?”

“Okay,” Orlando encouraged, not quite sure what to expect.

“I can’t eat normal food, but I love watching others eat. To smell a dish and to see someone taste and enjoy it... it gives me great pleasure.”

“Okay,” Orlando repeated, still undecided whether or not he felt uncomfortable with the situation. It was something decidedly different. But was that a good or a bad thing?

“Okay?” Viggo asked, trying to confirm that Orlando was ready to go forward with this. “Just don’t mind that I’m not having anything. Take whatever you want, imagine you’re eating for two. I hear the food is really good here.”

In the end, Orlando took Viggo’s proposal to heart. He ordered a soup followed by salmon with a sauce of white wine. And after a lot of coaxing from Viggo he let himself be persuaded to order a dessert as well. Initially, he had feared that the situation would be awkward, with him shoveling down food and Viggo just sitting there and staring at him. However, soon Orlando found that he quite enjoyed seeing the look of rapture on Viggo’s face when the vampire observed Orlando eat. He decided to make the best of it and made a show out of devouring bit by bit of tiramisu, licking his lips and closing his eyes in bliss. Viggo was just sitting across from him, drinking down every gesture and every appreciative sound Orlando made. It was a silly notion, but Orlando felt awfully empowered and in charge, something he had definitely not expected from their first date.

They were only interrupted once when Viggo’s mobile phone started to buzz. He looked alarmed and embarassed, muttering something about having turned the thing off for the evening, but Orlando didn’t mind.

“Just take the call, it’s alright.” And he took another sip of his wine, encouraging Viggo with a wave of his hand.

Still, when Viggo took out the phone and had a look at the display he frowned. For a moment Orlando was sure he could see anger on Viggo’s face, but it was washed away by a blank look of absolute indifference a second later. Viggo shut down the phone and looked up at Orlando, offering him a tight smile. “It’s not an important call after all.”

Orlando wondered what that was all about, but didn’t dare ask. It was their first real date and he supposed there would be many more opportunities to ask questions about Viggo, his personal life, his past and why there were apparently people he didn’t want to talk to on the phone.

The incident was forgotten only minutes later when they resumed their animated talk. Once the last plates were cleared away, Orlando lazily swirled white wine around in a glass and felt sufficiently stuffed. This had been a definite treat since his tight student’s budget usually didn’t allow for more than pizza, toast and burgers.

“You know, I really enjoyed this, Viggo. Though, I guess I was ill-prepared. I know so little about you, what you are.” Even while he said it, he suddenly realized that Viggo had – consciously or unconsciously – let him into his life already. He had invited him for dinner even though he didn’t eat himself. He must have known that this was a potentially awkward situation, but he had trusted Orlando to go with it. He had believed Orlando would be ready to accept that Viggo wasn’t human, that he was different. The realization made him smile inwardly.

Still, during dinner they had mostly talked about Orlando’s acting classes and how he had come to live in London. For a short while, they had even discussed Viggo’s gallery, but the man’s personal life hadn’t come up at all. Viggo hadn’t cleared up the situation with Liv and apart from his earlier quip about vampires not being funny, he hadn’t spoken about this part of him at all. Orlando couldn’t help feeling that Viggo was just as much an enigma as he had been a week ago.

Viggo looked chagrined when Orlando commented on it. “I know and I should probably remedy that fact. However, I find myself absolutely enamoured with your blissful unawareness. When I first saw you in _Fangastic_ , I instantly knew that you had never been to a vampire club before. That you had, in fact, never met a vampire. And still you trusted me enough to let me kiss and touch you. You might not realize it, but that kind of trust is a rare thing. It is not a gift often bestowed upon my kind.”

Orlando couldn’t quite follow that train of thought. He wasn’t aware that he had done anything outstanding when he had met Viggo. He had just followed his heart. Well, and his other body parts...

“But you are citizens now,” he interjected. “You can vote and be in the fanclub of _Manchester United_. You own a gallery, which is apparently doing really well. So, basically, you’re out. You’re part of society now.”

“Yes, in theory we have equal rights. In reality, however, few humans apart from the ever present fangbanger wants anything to do with us. We are either the freaks everyone stares at or we are evil bloodsuckers. In any case, we’re always a vampire first, not a business partner, a friend or an associate.”

“Fangbanger?” The way in which Viggo explained his situation, it made a lot of sense to Orlando, but he had stumbled over the one word. It was awfully... colourful.

“You know, people who want to be bitten by a vampire just for kicks. It gives them a high.”

“Like what we did in the club?” Orlando lowered his voice and could not help a slight blush to creep up his cheeks.

“Kind of,” Viggo admitted. “But I was hoping this – we – could be more than what happened in the club.”

If Orlando still had doubts about what Viggo’s intentions were, now was the time to put them to rest. He gave Viggo a brilliant smile. “I definitely want us to be more,” Orlando agreed.

Viggo paused for a moment, looking at Orlando like he had never seen him before. “See, you’re fearless.” He shook his head in amazement. “You seem to not mind at all what I am.” Viggo shook his head in amazement.

“What you are?” Orlando chuckled, but then became serious. “I think you are a very attractive man. A good kisser, too.” He winked at Viggo. “You’re a gentleman who knows how to woo a poor student like me. I want to get to know you better and maybe have a place in your life. So I don’t really see what I should be afraid of.” He reached over the table to take Viggo’s hand. It felt cool and strong and was noticably paler than Orlando’s.

It was a bold speech, especially after Orlando’s doubts from a few days earlier. However, he had thought about this long and hard and had arrived at the conclusion that he wanted Viggo in his life. That he was a vampire was part of the deal. The jury was still out on whether this made things more interesting or more complicated.

Viggo looked at their entwined hands. “I think I’m flattered. But you know nothing about what I am. How can you know I’m not here to hurt you?”

Orlando shrugged. “I fancy myself to be a good judge of character. Just don’t give me a reason to change my high opinion of you. And just so you know, I know plenty about your kind.” He counted off the facts on his fingers. “I know you sleep in coffins, you don’t like silver or crosses, you can’t go into churches, you all come from Transylvania, you drink blood, you turn into bats and wolves and fog, you can’t cross moving water, you have to be invited into a house, you don‘t have a reflection in the mirror. Did I miss anything?”

Obviously, Orlando had succeeded in dispersing the sombre mood between them, because Viggo was openly laughing. “Well, some of that stuff is just preposterous. I would assume you have seen too many _Hammer_ movies.”

“Might be,” Orlando winked. “But I already found out tonight that you truly don’t eat. That’s a start. The rest will reveal itself in due time.”

“Or I could just give you the cliff notes,” Viggo offered, but Orlando waved the idea away. “Where would be the fun in that? You said you liked my naivety in regards to your nature. So I’ll just find out more about you step by step. All on my own!”

“Fearless and spirited. A man after my own heart.” Viggo lifted their entwined hands to his lips and kissed Orlando’s pulse point.

“Let’s leave?” When Viggo looked up again his eyes had turned two shades lighter. Those were the predator’s eyes Orlando had seen in the club, eyes that seemed to convey Viggo was hungry after all. The thought went right to Orlando’s groin. Together with the wine, it made him lightheaded.

“Yes, let’s leave. You seem to have built up a hunger of your own. Maybe we can do something about that,” he suggested, squeezing Viggo’s hand.

Orlando’s veiled promise caused Viggo to pay in record time. When they were back in the car, Viggo just asked “Your place?”, but did not even wait for Orlando’s reply before turning the car in that direction.

Orlando would have liked to see how Viggo lived, because surely it would give him more insight into this man. However, he was slowly starting to realize that Viggo was very secretive, that he seemed to guard his life and his heart like a fortress. It would take some time to tear down those walls, but they could take it slow. Viggo was worth it, he just knew it.

“Is your crypt not well-kept enough to receive visitors?” he teased.

“Crypt? Orlando, what did I say about those _Hammer_ movies?”  
  
“That I’ve seen too many of them?”

“Exactly. I hate to disappoint you, but my address is actually not _Highgate Cemetery_.”

Then again, all good intentions aside, he could not pass up this opening. “So what is your address?”

Viggo paused, not having expected that question. “All in due time. Is that alright?” Viggo bit his lip.

“Quite alright, don’t worry,” Orlando tried to allay Viggo’s worry.

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Viggo asked when they turned back into Orlando’s road.

“What is?”

“That I don’t do this often.” Viggo played nervously with the gear-shift.

“What? Date?” At Viggo’s affirmative nod Orlando had to smile. “You’re doing fine. More than fine, actually. This turned out to be the nicest date I’ve had in a year.”

Viggo gave him a boyish smile. “Only nice?”

“Nicest. That’s quite a bit more than just nice. In any case, the night is yet young.”

“That it is.” Viggo parked the Mercedes not far from Orlando’s flat. He killed the engine and they just sat there for a moment, listening to the continued _tick tick_ of the engine cooling down. Viggo seemed to need a little time to make up his mind and while Orlando knew what he wanted Viggo to say, he was determined to give him the time to say n when he was ready.

“Mind if I come up for a while?” Viggo asked eventually.

Orlando let out a relieved breath. “I feared you would never ask!” He offered Viggo a brilliant smile. “And just so you know, my crypt isn’t well-kept either, but I made an effort and picked all worn socks off the floor to throw them in the laundry basket.” Orlando squared his shoulders and lifted his chin to give the impression of someone being rightfully proud of himself. That earned him an amused glance from Viggo.

“That’s good to know.” Again, Viggo opened the car door for Orlando and helped him get out. This time though, Viggo’s touch was neither shy not fleeting. He lifted Orlando’s hand to his lips slowly and deliberately, giving Orlando ample time to shiver in anticipation. When Viggo brushed a kiss against Orlando’s pulse point, his mouth felt cool against Orlando’s sensitive skin. Viggo let the kiss linger, let his soft lips taste Orlando’s delicate skin and when he finally ended the kiss he did not let go of Orlando’s hand. Instead, he held it in his own, his thumb brushing repeatedly against the spot he had just kissed as if he already missed the more intimate contact.

Orlando felt a little dazed, wondering how such little contact could affect him so profoundly. “You keep doing that,” Orlando wondered out loud.

“Keep doing what?” Viggo asked, true puzzlement in his voice like the gesture of kissing Orlando’s hand was truly unconscious.

“Kissing me there.” To illustrate his words, Orlando mirrored what Viggo had just done to him. He lifted their entwined hands to his mouth, turned Viggo’s hand and gently kissed Viggo in the exact same spot – on his pulse point. He felt Viggo still under his ministrations until the other man drew in a long shuddering breath. “What does it mean?” Orlando asked in a whisper fearing that anything louder would shatter the atmosphere.

“For vampires it’s a special spot. I can always hear your heartbeat, feel your blood flow through your veins, sense the life within you. But when I kiss you there, I’m so close to it all. It’s tempting, especially when it’s offered so freely. The vein is just under the skin, the blood rushing along so close to the surface. It is a hard spot to resist.” Viggo’s eyes had taken on that predatory look again, just from talking about it. Orlando found it difficult to imagine the effect his closeness had on Viggo, but that he had an effect was obvious. Viggo hungered for him. Which was, all things considered, quite an ambiguous way of putting things.

Orlando stored away the information that Viggo could hear his heartbeat and considered what he had just heard. Yes, in the movies vampires would take blood from the wrist. The more usual spot however was the neck.

“What about here?” He let his finger rest against his throat and felt his own pulse quicken under the skin. He turned his head to the side and made a little show for Viggo, offering his throat wantonly. It worked, Viggo’s eyes were glued to Orlando’s throat. There was naked hunger in his eyes and he swallowed audibly.

“That one is even harder to resist,” he said eventually, averting his eyes with difficulty. “We rarely kiss there in public, it’s too intimate.” Viggo allowed himself to lightly brush against Orlando’s throat with his fingers.

This was all a little twisted. Orlando wasn’t quite sure whether they were talking about food or sex. Or maybe it was all the same to Viggo, maybe both always went together. Whichever the case may be, all this talk about heartbeats and kisses had made him horny. And in his opinion getting more intimate with Viggo was the perfect ending to this wonderful night.

“Then let’s go inside, shall we.” Orlando grabbed Viggo’s hand and all but dragged him into the building. He meant to hear Viggo mutter “Fearless” again, which made him smile. He had never considered himself to be exceptionally brave.

Once up on the second floor, Orlando unlocked the door and went inside, careful to stumble neither over Sarah’s collection of shoes nor the few paintings she had stored i the hallway. Viggo was hard on his heels, embracing Orlando from behind as soon as the front door was closed.

“So that is a myth, huh?”

“What is?” Viggo looked puzzled for a moment, but Orlando’s pointed look at first him and then the door gave him all the clue he needed. “Oh, the door. Yes, that’s a myth. It would be a real nuisance to have to be invited in everywhere. I suppose fiction writers invented that only to make their readers feel safer.” Viggo shrugged without loosening the tight hold he had on Orlando.

Orlando turned around in Viggo’s embrace and mock-acted a moment of utter surprise by throwing a hand against his heart and widening his eyes in horror. He fluttered his eyelashes. “So, what you’re saying is that I can’t feel safe now that a vampire has intruded upon my home?”

“Definitely not safe,” Viggo said sagely, and Orlando was unable to tell whether he was serious or just playing along. “You stand no chance against the strength of a vampire. He could ravish you, drink your blood or enthrall you.”

“I think I am already enthralled,” Orlando whispered. His mouth closed the remaining distance between them and he placed a firm kiss upon Viggo’s lips. It was meant as a promise, a small appetizer for what was to come once they had gotten out of their coats and into the actual flat. However, Viggo had other ideas, obviously not minding in the least that they were standing in the rather crammed and dark space of the hallway. He refused to let Orlando end the kiss and instead deepened it, opening his mouth and inviting Orlando to explore and taste. Orlando gladly accepted the offer and his tongue gently probed and delved into the welcoming heat of Viggo’s mouth until the other man moaned with pleasure and drew Orlando closer to his body. Orlando molded himself against Viggo’s strong chest and leaned into the vampire’s tight embrace. The sudden closeness caused heat to surge through his body and he thrummed with both aniticipation and desire. Viggo took the lead again and their tongues danced for a moment, simply enjoying the intimate caress. Now it was Orlando’s turn to make an appreciative noise and he sighed in bliss. As far as surroundings went, this was one of the most unromantic kisses he had ever shared, but the fact that he shared it with Viggo let him forget about the crammed space.

Well, almost.

“Ouch.” Orlando broke the kiss and hissed at the twinge in his toe. Just one misstep in the hopes of getting a bit closer to Viggo and he had stubbed his toe on one of Sarah’s boots. “One of the perks of living together with a woman,” he commented and drew a face.

“Maybe we should take this elsewhere,” Viggo suggested. It might have been Orlando’s imagination, but somehow Viggo’s voice sounded even lower and more suggestive now. It had taken on a bewitching quality Orlando felt unable to resist.

“Probably a good idea, before any of Sarah’s canvases fall on us.”

“Canvases?” Viggo looked at the few canvases leaning against one wall as if he had not noticed them before. And he probably hadn’t. “She paints?” For a moment Sarah’s atistic endeavours seemed to distract him, but Orlando had other things in mind. He relieved himself of his coat and scarf and then tugged at Viggo’s black overcoat, prompting him to take it off. “We wanted to take things elsewhere, remember?”

Viggo drew his eyes away from the canvases and whatever they might portray and looked back at Orlando, his eyes suddenly alight when he noticed that much more of Orlando’s skin was visible. More was revealed momentarily when Orlando opened the buttons of his dark shirt, letting it hang open invitingly. Viggo’s hand shot up, gently tugging at the collar. Orlando knew instantly what the vampire was looking for: The bite mark had faded to a pale yellow, but it was still faintly visible. Viggo’s eyes were glued to the mark and he swayed towards Orlando and brushed a kiss against the tender spot. Viggo’s lips on his throat sent a violent tingle down Orlando’s spine and he gave a low moan. Viggo drew back only a moment later and rallied visibly. “Elsewhere. Lead the way, Orlando the Bold!” he ordered, his voice raspy.

Orlando took hold of Viggo’s hand and led him to his room, giving him a tour of the flat that only took ten seconds. “Bathroom,” he waved to his right. “Kitchen,” he said unnecessarily when they walked through it. “Sarah’s room,” he addressed the closed door up ahead. He turned left and opened the door to his own room. “My room,” he introduced.

To both sides of the door were bookshelves and a wardrobe. Across from them there was a big window under which Orlando’s bed was situated. To the right was his desk and the only chair of the room and on the other side were a sideboard with a small tv. A big poster of Lawrence Olivier as Richard III. completed his furnishings. It wasn’t anything fancy, a typical student’s room and for a second Orlando panicked, trying to see it through the eyes of an immortal vampire. But Viggo made no comment, so he had probably expected something of the like.

Orlando plopped down onto the bed and held out his hand out to Viggo in invitation. Viggo followed suit at once and Orlando drew their entwined hands to rest on his thigh. His heart beat madly in his chest, but it was all anticipation now, not nerves.

“So you say you can hear my heart beat. What is it telling you now?” he asked curiously as he moved their hands slowly towards his groin.

Viggo played along. “Well, its rather skeltering rhythm tells me you’re properly enthralled and are now waiting impatiently to be ravished.”

“Exactly,” Orlando smiled proudly. “Ravish me all you want!”

Viggo did not wait to be told twice. He kissed Orlando again and it felt just like it had in the club: vibrant, alive, warm and comforting. He let himself be swept away by Viggo’s skillful tongue that danced along his lips, his mouth, his teeth. Desire stirred in him, a warm glow starting in his belly before radiating out into all of his limbs, insisting on more touch, more places in which their bodies could brush against one another.

“Less clothes,” he managed to mumble into the kiss, but Viggo had no problem understanding the request. While Orlando fumbled with the buttons on Viggo’s satin dress shirt, Viggo mirrored the gesture on Orlando’s clothes, though he was much more successful in his efforts. Within moments, Viggo had divested Orlando of his blue shirt, revealing the white t-shirt underneath. Viggo let his hands wander across the planes of Orlando’s chest and belly, grazing against his nipples in the process. Orlando groaned, causing Viggo to repeat the gesture until his nipples hardened under the rough cloth of the shirt. Lost in the sharp stabs of want, Orlando’s hands tangled uselessly in the folds of Viggo’s shirt, causing Viggo to take over. He opened the last of the buttons himself and let the shirt roll off his body. He tugged at Orlando’s shirt in a likewise manner until his bare chest was visible. The thrill of being naked under Viggo’s intense gaze caused goosebumps to appear all over Orlando’s arms.

Their little tumble caused them to fall sideways onto the bed and as soon as they hit the covers and were eye to eye again, Orlando started to explore the newly revealed skin of Viggo’s upper body. There had been no opportunity during their first encounter to see more of Viggo’s body revealed, so naturally Orlando had fantasized about it. Had tried to imagine the texture of Viggo’s skin and had mapped the planes of his chest in his mind. Orlando rested a hand on Viggo’s chest, not far from his heart, and noticed how much paler the vampire’s skin was in comparison to his own. It was cool, but felt alive under his hands. He splayed his fingers wide and then let his fingertips travel along Viggo’s chest, his side and down to his hip. It was an enticing feeling to touch Viggo, to touch a vampire. On the surface, his skin was cool and hard as marble, but underneath Orlando could feel Viggo’s muscles shift – alive and warm and strong. The vampire’s body was so tempting that Orlando felt touching with his hands was not enough.

Viggo gave a suprised hiss when Orlando started to lovingly suckle on Viggo’s right nipple. He yielded at once to Orlando’s ministrations, though, and was pliant under Orlando’s hands. Orlando licked Viggo’s nipple and felt it peak. Viggo’s breath quickened and grew ragged and he rolled onto his back to give Orlando better access.

The vampire’s hand came around Orlando’s back, enfolding him in a safe cocoon and drawing him nearer, just when Orlando decided to up the stakes a bit. He bit one nipple lightly and the ensuing cry of pure pleasure that fell from Viggo’s lips told him he was on the right track. Viggo was breathing hard and his hand was restless on Orlando’s body. Orlando quite liked the way the vampire’s touch left trails of hot fire on his skin.

He bit down again, this time on the other nipple, and rolled the bud between his teeth. The caress seemed to unravel Viggo under his hands. He felt Viggo’s groin come in contact with his own and he could feel the other’s hard lenghth rub promisingly against his hip. Orlando looked up from his task in time to see Viggo close his eyes in bliss. He moaned, a sound that seemed to rumble through his body like a minor earthquake. Viggo repeated the motion, again and again, and sought the friction of their erections touching like this. They moved against one another for a while, drawing out the anticipation of their lovemaking until Viggo could take no more teasing. He moved a hand between their bodies and cupped Orlando’s arousal. Orlando’s cock strained against the confines of his jeans in an almost painful way, but when Viggo brushed against the bulge, the near-pain evaporated into pure bliss.

In one smooth motion, Viggo turned them until Orlando was the one on his back. He watched with a hooded gaze how Viggo hovered hungrily above him. Viggo’s hand was still busy further down, but now Viggo was working on the button of Orlando’s jeans. He gave a sigh of relief when his fly was finally open, giving his cock more room. He wiggled out of his jeans, taking his underwear and socks with them, and felt suddenly very self-conscious when he realized that he was lying on his bed completely naked and vulnerable to Viggo’s piercing gaze. Because that was what Viggo was doing – he was looking at Orlando’s naked form like this was as much part of the lovemaking as the actual sex. He was not touching Orlando anymore, was only sitting there taking in what was offered. He was absolutely still and if Orlando had not known Viggo to be alive, he would have suspected that he was an inanimate object, a glowing white marble statue someone had placed on his bed. In that very moment, he realized that this was the vampire in its truest form – still, unbreathing, unmoving. His heart skipped a beat, knowing the creature above him for what it was: alien and stripped of the humanity Viggo had worn like a cloak.

Viggo didn’t even blink and the longer the moment lasted, the more insecure Orlando felt. “Viggo?” he asked with a small tremor of fear in his voice. That was all it took. Viggo’s eyes refocused and returned Orlando’s worried look. He smiled, meaning to reassure Orlando and the gesture seemed to reestablish and rebuild him. The vampire stepped back, hid behind a curtan, and the man remained. It was uncanny to watch this transition, but the moment it was complete Orlando let out a relieved sigh.

Viggo’s hand shot out hovering above Orlando’s forehead. His cool forefinger followed the line of Orlando’s eyebrow, then went down his cheek, his chin. It travelled the length of his throat, resting for a moment on his clavicle, and then it went further south leaving a sweet tingle in its wake: chest, nipple, bellybutton, hipbone, thigh, knee, calf, heel. The finger ended his exploration with a quick swirl around Orlando’s big toe. “You’re beautiful,” Viggo said, almost as an afterthought.

Orlando felt himself blush and cursed his tendency to do so. He had never been able to take compliments gracefully. He felt awkward, being under such scrutiny, and desperately wanted to take up their lovemaking again if only to distract Viggo from looking so intensly at his naked body. At the thought his cock twitched, insisting that it see some action soon.

“I want to see you, too” Orlando encouraged and Viggo stumbled out of his trousers and repositioned himself above Orlando’s body. Orlando saw a glimpse of a pale thigh and a hint of Viggo’s cock being just as hard as Orlando’s. But before Orlando could fully enjoy the view, they were nose to nose again and he assumed that for now, he would have to learn Viggo’s body by touch.

His hands came up, caressing Viggo’s chest, his sides, resting on his ass. He kneaded the cheeks and Viggo moved forward, causing their cocks to brush against one another. They both moaned and Viggo’s head came down, catching Orlando’s mouth in a kiss that felt like a seering flame to the other man. Their hands were everywhere at once and still Orlando wished for more touching, more spots in which their bodies collided. It was simply not enough, could never be enough, and the sheer rapture he felt was a burning sun behind his closed eyelids.

Viggo kissed his mouth, trailed caresses down his shoulders, bit into his nipples and dipped his tongue into his bellybutton and it was bliss. With a last coherent thought, Orlando made a grab for the condom and lube he had deposited behind the bed, in the hopes of getting lucky tonight, and shoved them at Viggo.

The motion caused Viggo to momentarily lose the rhythm of his attentions. He looked at the items and took the lube. “We won’t need the condom,” he said and his voice was husky and promising. “I’m a vampire, remember?” Viggo raised an eyebrow. “My blood can’t carry any diseases.”

Orlando thought about it for about two seconds, thought about insisting because safe sex was a concept that had been drilled into him from the very beginning. But Viggo had a point. Orlando let the condom fall to the ground and widened his legs, inviting Viggo in. “Let’s get on with it, then!”

Viggo took his sweet time preparing him, his ministrations achingly slow until Orlando was desperate to finally feel Viggo within himself. He was panting hard by the time Viggo was removing his fingers and was positioning himself in a way that would allow him to easily enter Orlando’s body. The vampire sought Orlando’s gaze and Orlando gasped from the sheer intensity being reflected in Viggo’s eyes. He looked like he had in the club, shortly before he had bitten him. The angles of his face seemed to have sharpened and his eyes were alight with a cold fire that reminded Orlando of a freezing river deep below the perpetual ice – a surreal, light blue. And then Viggo smiled, his lips just curving enough to reveal teeth, razor sharp and not at all human, and he didn’t look like he had in the club at all. There was affection in his eyes now, open adoration. And hope. This was not how a vampire looked at his food. This was how a man looked at something he loved. Orlando’s heart soared. He gave a nod and lifted his hips in invitation.

It was everything Orlando had hoped to be and more. Viggo entered him slowly, filling him more with every thrust, giving him time to adjust. When he was fully sheathed, he started to move and soon they found a steady rhythm. They were in sync, their movements graceful as if they already had had an eternity to perfect them with one another. Orlando held onto Viggo’s arms and concentrated fully on the ecstacy taking hold of him.

At some point, he felt lips brush against his neck. Their caress was tender, their kiss a request. He turned his head to the side and teeth grazed his sensitive skin. And when his throat was pierced and he felt blood well up, he let himself be swept away, let himself be taken fully.

It didn’t hurt, but instead was the most intense emotion he had ever felt. Viggo thrust into him, his movements more frantic, but he still managed to hit Orlando’s sweet spot with ease, time and time again. And Orlando moved with him, felt desire build and build until it was almost unbearable to be so aroused. All through this he could feel Viggo’s mouth on his throat, sucking steadily until Orlando felt lightheaded from the conflicting signs his nerves were receiving.

He felt everything with such clarity all of a sudden: their bodies entangled in their lovemaking, his blood feeding Viggo’s hunger, his heartbeat reverberating through his being. Loud, like a bell tolling. And then there was another sound, quiet at first, but soon gaining volume. It staggered a beat behind before both sounds united, gaining volume, gaining power, gaining strength. It confused Orlando for a moment before he realized that what he was feeling was not only his own heartbeat, but Viggo’s as well. They were connected, truly connected. That thought pushed him over the edge, and he tumbled downwards while his pleasure crashed above him like a tidal wave drowning him without mercy. He gasped for air, for something to hold on to and it came in the form of Viggo’s kiss anchoring him in the here and now, guiding him back into his own body and enjoying the bliss with every cell of his being.

“Wow,” was all he managed to say, and even that one word was barely audible. He felt a slick tongue lick the small wound on his throat, cleaning the bite. His nerves frizzled with the new input and he felt himself reach his limit. After that, everything went black.

He came to with his ear to Viggo’s chest, hearing the other’s heart beat a slow and steady rhythm. Viggo was on his back and had gathered Orlando close, embracing him lovingly. When he noticed that Orlando’s eyes were open he smiled, an entirely human gesture, no teeth showing. “Welcome back.” Orlando heard the words just as much as he felt them rumble through Viggo’s chest while he spoke.

“Nggh,” Orlando answered, still fighting for coherent thought. “How long was I out?”

“Not long, only a few minutes.” Viggo took hold of Orlando’s hand lying on his chest and started to play with it. Orlando did not comment on it, but his heart skipped a beat noticing the small gesture.

“This keeps happening,” he grumbled. “I don’t usually black out just from sex.”

“This wasn’t just sex,” Viggo said suggestively. “It’ll get better though, I promise. Your body is just not used to the double assault of sex _and_ donating blood.”

“Mmh.” Orlando didn’t really feel like talking and was quite certain he couldn’t muster the energy anyway. Instead, he felt mellow and sated and the afterglow was glorious without needing words. If he had one wish free, Orlando would wish to fall asleep just like this and wake up in the morning with Viggo still wrapped around him so protectively.

“I’m sorry. I won’t be able to stay. I will have to leave before the sun comes up.”

That made sense, but... “Wait, were you just reading my thoughts?”

“Sorry,” Viggo said again, looking a little sheepish, which was a rather comical expression on the face of a vampire.

“But...” Orlando wasn’t quite sure how to say this and the fact that his post-orgasmic mind was resisting the thought process wasn’t helping either. “When we met in the club, you always knew what I was thinking. It was a little uncanny, actually. But tonight I didn’t get that feeling. Until now.”

“I got the impression you didn’t like it. Most humans don’t, so I tried not to listen in. But your mind was wide open right now, I couldn’t help pick that thought up.”

Orlando thought about that. “I don’t know yet whether I like it or not. It’s just weird, you answering without me having said something out loud. So it’s really a sixth sense, just like you said? You can actually read my mind.”

“Yes.” The admission was spoken quietly.

“Okay.” Orlando really didn’t want to think further about this, at least not until his brain reassembled itself into its usual shape.

“Okay?” Viggo asked. “You’re okay with it?”

“I guess,” Orlando shrugged and they both fell silent. “This will take quite a bit of getting used to.”

The steady drum of Viggo’s heart was lulling him to sleep again, as was the repeated brush of Viggo’s hand up and down his arm. Up and down, up and down. It was so relaxing.

“You’re really dealing with this well,” Viggo said into the silence and Orlando opened one eye.

“It could be worse,” he mumbled. “There’s this book and in it the vampire...”

Viggo interrupted him. “This book? What have you been doing?”

Orlando disentangled his hand from Viggo’s grasp for long enough to point at his desk where a stack of books was situated precariously in one corner. He then snuggled back into Viggo’s embrace while Viggo craned his neck to see what Orlando had pointed at. “I just did what every student would do. I got a few books to prepare myself.”

“Summers, Rice, Thorne, Barber, Stoker and _The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Vampires_?” Viggo sounded incredulous. “I didn’t even know such a thing existed.”

Orlando chuckled. “I took this one of the fun factor, I didn’t expect to learn anything useful from it. But the rest is interesting.”

“I bet,” Viggo agreed. “Though, some authors are more off the mark than others. You’ll see.”

“I intend to find out all about your kind in general. And about you in particular. I want to know everything!”

“Everything? That will take quite a bit of time.” Viggo sounded a little unsure, like he was desperately hoping it would never come to that.

“Well, we have time. Let’s start slow. Tell me one thing about you. Just one.” He paused, trying to decide which burning question regarding Viggo’s life interested him the most. There truly was so much he wanted to know: How old was Viggo? When and how had he become a vampire? Why? And who had turned him? He was dying to know the answers to these questions, but wasn’t sure whether he could ask them outright. So after some consideration, his fingers brushed lightly against the small golden necklace Viggo was wearing. He had noticed it when Viggo had taken his shirt of and had wondered about the fact that a small cross was dangling from the necklace. But naturally, in the heat of passion he hadn’t wanted to discuss it. But they could do that now, it was as good a starting point as any. “What about this, for instance?”

Viggo’s own hand went to the cross, feeling its shape and form like he just now he remembered he was wearing it. His face was sad suddenly, his eyes far away. Orlando noticed the distressed look and cursed himself for obviously choosing the wrong topic.

“I’m sorry I asked. You don’t have to tell me,” he backpedaled, trying to relate to Viggo that he did not need to speak about things he would rather keep quiet about.

“No, it’s all right. It’s just that I don’t think I can share that story right now. You know how some things never stop hurting? That’s what this cross is to me, a reminder of what was and can never be again.”

Riddles, just riddles. There was a profound grief in there somewhere, but Orlando could not make sense of it.

“Is it because of the cross? You can touch it, so...” He tried gently, but what grieved Viggo was not an intellectual pain, but a personal loss.

“No, it’s the necklace itself. When I was still human I was married. The necklace was my wife’s. I took it after she died.” Viggo’s voice was flat, not betraying any emotion. And that in and of itself was evidence enough of how he felt.

“I shouldn’t have asked,” Orlando repeated, feeling certain that he had now completely ruined the peaceful atmosphere of afterglow between them. “I’m so sorry.” He moved his head until he could catch Viggo’s mouth in a kiss, because he knew no other way of showing his sympathy. Viggo was passive under his ministrations, but his arms came up to embrace the younger man. He held him tight until Orlando ended the kiss.

Viggo sighed and looked away for a moment. “It’s okay. That was long ago."

“But you’re still grieving.”

Now it was Viggo’s turn to shrug. “Emotion never fades for us, we never forget. A pain might lose its sting, but we will always be able to remember it, relive it.”

That gave Orlando something to chew on. In truth, he thought that sucked. To always miss someone like you had just lost them? It would probably drive him crazy. Viggo’s cryptic answers only gave birth to more questions on Orlando’s part, but he would not ask them now. It had cost Viggo dearly to even answer this, and Orlando did not want to force revelations from him.

“You should get some sleep, Orlando. It’s getting late.”

A quick look at his clock confirmed that. Still, Orlando wanted to make sure that everything was well between them, that Viggo had not only proposed sleep to shut up Orlando’s questions. “You’re not mad at me?”

“I’m not mad.” Viggo offered him a small smile as if he was checking whether he was still capable of the gesture. “Just sleep and I’ll keep watch over your dreams.”

It was easy to follow that instruction. He closed his eyes and concentrated on Viggo’s strong heartbeat and how it reverberated through his own body. He felt his own heart follow the same rhythm, an endless melody of gentle drumbeats that called to him. Let go. Sleep. You’re safe.

When Orlando awoke the next morning, he was alone in his bed. For a moment, he feared that he had only dreamed last night, that there had not been a gorgeous vampire in his bed. But when his hand reached over to the spot where Viggo had been lying he could still feel the imprint of a head on the cushion. And on it, a red rose was lying.

Orlando smiled to himself and inhaled deeply, enjoying the perfume of the rose as it mingled with the sharp tang of sex that still lingered in the air. He fell asleep again and dreamed of cool hands stroking his skin lovingly.

_\- The End_

_(February 2010)_


End file.
